


The Angel In The Garden

by kitkatbooboo



Category: Horror - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Short Story, just plain horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 14:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8920771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatbooboo/pseuds/kitkatbooboo
Summary: A house appears from seemingly nowhere and my curiosity burns.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd and a very short story. Hope you like it.

The house seemed to appear out of nowhere. The dark windows, the mildew-stained brick exterior, the attic that peered out into space - all of it begged me to enter. I squinted it at suspiciously, not being able to quite recall seeing this house before. My memory was bad, but even I’d remember a house like this. The rusted wrought iron gates surrounding a wild garden, complete with what seemed to be a statue of some kind. I took a few steps closer, raising on my tiptoes to try and see past the overgrown hedge. I managed to manoeuvre to a spot that allowed me to see. A discoloured angel stood proud. Vines gripped it’s arms and body, the wings spread as if to soar away on the warm summer breeze. One hand raised to ward off a blow, or perhaps to beckon some unwary soul closer, a large sword in the other hand was held loosely by its side, point digging into the dirt.

A cold shiver worked its way down my spine. It looked like the angel was being captured and held prisoner by the garden, the fierce scowl on its face made me wonder if perhaps that was a good thing.  
I caught a sudden movement in the shadows from the corner of my eye. It startled me so badly I tried to move backwards away from the danger in reflex. As I lay there in the dirt trying to get my breath back, I contemplated that this is why I would never survive a horror movie. Falling off a gate after being spooked by what was no doubt just an animal moving through shadows is not Final Girl material. Groaning I rolled over and began to get up all the way cursing my own jumpiness. It wasn’t until I moved closer to the gate again that I heard noises. Indistinct whispers that raised goosebumps and made the back of my neck itch. I hesitated, one hand paused inches away from the bars, I laughed nervously to myself trying to shake it off. I made contact with the gate and felt my soul go cold. 

I turned around and walked my genre savvy ass _home,_ clearly that place was a death sundae with a torture cherry on top. Too many hours of horror movies and the reality warping time sink of tv tropes meant I was highly aware of what awaited me in Murdersville. 

Curiosity, however, is a cruel mistress and my greatest vice. 

Which is why a few days later I was staring at the two story monstrosity with it’s obligatory creepy wrought iron gate, trying to convince myself to _just go home you idiot._ But I couldn’t let go. I spooked myself that was all. I was sure that I hadn’t seen that house before and it’s not like it’s easy to miss.

Also my dog ran off into the garden. 

He was no doubt chasing some apparition that wanted to redecorate using my intestines. Or a vengeful ghost intent on sharing the pain. Or cultists that needed a young woman to sacrifice in a satanic ritual. Or maybe cannibalistic hillbillies that were even now arguing over which who got what!  
I sucked in a mildly hysterical breath trying to calm down.

Swallowing hard, I pushed open the rusted gate. It made a harsh screech that sent the few birds squawking into the sky. It very nearly sent me running home.  
As I walked through calling for my dog Rupert, the garden didn’t look nearly as overgrown as I thought and had a suspiciously clear path which I determinedly _did not_ think about. Particularly when it led to the scary as fuck angel lurking in the middle. 

The sun set, bringing with it a chilling breeze and the shadows that stalked me. 

I kept calling Rupert, fear growing. He wasn’t answering, not even when I shook his bag of treats and I would have sworn he could hear that from miles away. I checked the house, trying to ignore the whispers. The doors were tightly sealed which left only the centre of the garden.  
As I approached the centre hands shaking, the whispers grew louder, angrier. The shadows shifted quicker, darting from one patch to the next like a gossip with the latest scandal. There was a sound and I turned and saw what had been stalking me in the shadows. It was huge standing on two legs, furred with horns like a bull. It’s teeth and claws bared and sharp. 

I screamed. It roared back at me and reach out to swipe at me. I lurched backwards, stumbling into a tree. I ducked as it swiped me at again. I ran. 

I tried to hide, but every time it found me. The whispers heightened to a furious buzz that made my head pound. I couldn’t think, my heart beat so hard in my chest it hurt. Tears obscured my vision. I tripped over a small lump in the grass landing heavily. I could hear the beast coming closer and so I forced myself to get up and keep running.  
It was when I stopped to catch my breath in front of the stairs leading up the house, I realised that it had kept me to the outer edges and away from the angel.

It wasn’t rational but neither was a monster made out of shadows and I was desperate. I took a deep breath and bolted towards the centre. 

The vines tore my hands bloody, making my grip slick as I tried to free the angel. Adrenaline shot through me as I heard the monster get closer. Panic and hysteria fought for dominance.  
The last vine hit the ground. The statue remained still. 

I dropped to my knees sobbing, still able to hear the roar of the monster as it charged at me. There was a shattering sound immediately followed by bright light. I looked up in shock. 

The angel swung.


End file.
